heart to start
by acronymed
Summary: Five boys Casey McDonald didn't kiss and one she did. — Derek/Casey.


**Title:** heart to start  
**Fandom:** Life With Derek  
**Word Count:** 2713  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Life With Derek or its characters.  
**Notes:** I have always wanted to do a fic like this. Of course, I picked the most obscure pairings I could think of to use. Also: wrote this in like 20 minutes, so it's not my best.  
**Summary:** Five boys Casey McDonald didn't kiss and one she did.

* * *

"So, how does it feel to be dancing with the guy of your dreams?"

Casey fixes Sheldon with the blandest look she can muster and pointedly avoids looking in Max's direction. "Sheldon, you are _so _not the guy of my dreams."

"You wanted to go the dance with me though, didn't you?" He waggles his eyebrows at her. Casey rolls her eyes, and drops her hands from his shoulders. "Okay, so maybe you didn't."

"Obviously," she grumbles, then sighs. "Sorry. I just. The real guy of my dreams? Asked one of my friends out instead of me."

"Oh," Sheldon goes, eyebrows furrowed together. He looks at Emily and Derek slow dancing and slumps. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"They only went together to make you jealous," Casey tells him. She knows Derek better than she likes to admit. "He's actually probably going to suggest they kiss or something to get you over there."

"Emily wouldn't kiss him." They both pause, look at each other. Sheldon blanches. "Oh my God, I've lost her forever."

Casey pinches the bridge of her nose. "Just go over and apologize to her. It isn't rocket sciences, Schlepper."

"She'd never forgive me," he moans. "I – I don't know what to do! If her and Derek – and the – and she – for like ten years!"

"Oh, my God," Casey says.

Sheldon's eyes light up suddenly. Casey takes a step back. "I've got it!"

"A bad feeling?" she goes. "Yeah, me too."

"No!" he says, and then leans over and kisses her with his hands hovering awkwardly over her shoulders.

She pushes away from him, fast. "Schlepper! What was that!"

He's already spinning wildly to see Emily's reaction. Or lack thereof, considering she'd _missed it completely. _Casey feels a little dirty, and Derek staring at her over Emily's head isn't helping much either.

"Figures _he _saw it," Sheldon gripes, and touches her waist again. "My life is over."

"Join the club," she mutters, and that's about when Derek and Emily start leaning in.

* * *

"Tinker, I could kiss you!" she'd said, and she hadn't really meant it at all, but that hopeful look he'd gotten had maybe tugged at her heart just a little. So after class, when he walks her out to her bus stop, she turns to him and says, "I'm closing my eyes for three seconds, and anything that happens in those three seconds will not be held against you in the future."

He blinks at her for a while, like he isn't sure he's hearing her right. She sighs. "Just don't grope me, please."

She opens her eyes after two seconds, but she doesn't tell him that.

* * *

Sally tries to set her up with Patrick a second time, after Noel but before Truman. Things with Kendra hadn't worked out, and he'd gone back to chasing Sally. Derek stomps around the house a lot, and Sally stops waiting for him after work because that's generally when The Ape, as Derek likes to call him, comes by.

Casey manages to go on blissfully out of the loop for about a day before Sally calls her up in an almost panic begging her to go on a date with Patrick.

"You're gorgeous, smart and stubborn!" Sally says, nearly hyperventilating. Casey curls up on the corner of the sofa nearest Derek's chair and stares at the TV resolutely. "You're totally his type! I mean, me and you are _exactly _alike, almost!"

_Except for the passive aggressive behaviour, _Casey thinks dryly. But Sally's her friend, and Derek is starting to give her that look that makes her insides do funny things. Like melt. And truth be told, she kind of wants to go out on a real date without any drama or annoying step-brothers.

"Okay," she breathes, smoothing down her hair with one hand. "Okay, I'll do it. But only one date!"

"You are amazing," Sally squeals. "Thank you so, _so _much Casey!"

Derek is still giving her the third degree with his eyes. Casey starts to move over and away from him and his pretty eyelashes _(what!) _when he grabs her wrist, gently. She looks at him, and Sally is still babbling away about location and time and what kinds of things Patrick was into.

_Thank you, _he mouths, and she can't do anything but bite her lip and nod slowly, because _oh my god my heart just jumped a little what is wrong with me._

Her and Patrick meet up that Friday at the ice rink. It's nice, but boring. Patrick isn't the brightest guy around, and even though he's funny sometimes, she's kind of wishing the day would be over and done with already.

Someone dumps snow down the back of her shirt, and she doesn't even have to turn around to know who it is. "De – _rek_!"

"Bored, Space Case?" he drawls, leaning against the boards with his usual smirk and very nice hair. "Don't worry – he tends to have that effect on people."

She waits for the insult to come. Something about them being perfect for each other, probably. He's predictable, sometimes.

He doesn't say anything else though, just looks at her appraisingly from behind his bangs, and maybe he isn't predictable at all. She glides over to him and sees Sally standing at the other end of the rink, scowling.

"You do realize the whole point of this was to keep Patrick _away _from your girlfriend, right?" she says, as Patrick skates over to the girlfriend in question and smiles wider than she's seen the whole afternoon.

"Yeah, but…" he glances over his shoulder at them and shrugs when Sally glares back. "Well, I wouldn't wish Patrick on anyone, honestly. Not even you, Case."

"I'm so grateful," she deadpans. "But me and Patrick were having a great time up until you showed up."

"Uh-huh," he goes, completely unconvinced, and tugs on the end of her ponytail. "Remember who the Lord of the Lies is here, Princess."

Just for that, she ignores him the rest of the time they're there. Patrick actually pries himself away from Sally to skate with her for a bit, and just to show Derek up, she makes a point of maybe touching him a little too often and giggling a little too much (because he's only funny _sometimes)_, and when he hangs back at the end of the day and leans towards her while Derek and Sally argue over something up ahead, she lets him.

* * *

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Casey."

She smiles politely at the teenager standing on her front step. "You too, Teddy."

Derek is still behind her, arms crossed over his chest, glowering. She knows this, because Teddy keeps shooting strange looks over her shoulder. "Have a good night then," he says. Casey goes to close the door, and Derek seems to loosen a little.

Then Teddy stops her. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot."

She looks at him, sees his expression shift from pleasant to something like mischief, and she gets a bad feeling, because Derek looks at her like that _all the time _and it never ends well. "What is it, Teddy?"

He's fairly tall and when he grabs her shoulders, she stares dazedly at the top of his forehead for about a second. Then he presses his lips against her cheek and runs down the stairs to his mom's car. "I'll see you around, Casey! Later, Derek!"

Casey gapes at him. Derek reaches around her, surprisingly quiet, and closes the door.

"What," she says, stops. "What was that?"

"Payback," Derek all but snarls, and ushers her towards the kitchen. "You're gonna want to disinfect that before you catch something. Like manipulative dead-boy-walking syndrome."

"You can't beat him up," she says absently. His hand is warm on the small of her back and his fingers almost touch her hip. "He's like, half your height."

"Don't care," Derek says darkly, and stands closer than he should when she starts scrubbing at her cheek with a washcloth.

* * *

So, they're at a party. Emily's wandered off with a boy from their English class, and Truman is nowhere to be found. Casey stands by the front door awkwardly and feels her stomach start to sink as she remembers the last time she was in a situation just like this. Derek's kissing a blond girl who might actually be Amy near the couch, and for some reason she's trying really hard not to go over there and break them up.

She takes two steps, and then there's suddenly a very strong hand on her shoulder. "Casey."

She spins around, stares blatantly. "_Ryan?_"

She's pretty sure he's gotten over her yelling at him in the middle of the hallway. Part of her still shakes a little, though. Ryan smile at her, almost warmly, and when she sees the flask in his other hand, she knows why.

He drops his hand. "What are you doing over here all by yourself?"

"I got ditched," she grumbles, rubbing her arms. Derek seems to have abandoned his latest fling and is looking their way now. She sticks her tongue out at him and turns towards Ryan, just because. "Have you seen Truman anywhere?"

"Think I saw him making out with Amy upstairs," Ryans says, and starts to lean in too close. Casey's only thought is _that girl sure gets around _right before Max yells something about mistletoe from across the room and she looks up, because _what mistletoe it's not even Christmas!_

Ryan does, too. "Oh," he goes. "Huh. Look at that."

She's looking alright. And desperately trying to figure out a way to get home without needing the car. "I have a boyfriend," she says automatically, even though said boyfriend isn't even coming to her rescue. Ass. "So really, I can't."

Ryan shrugs. "It's not like it has to be on the mouth."

And now Casey's brain is going something like: _but you're drunk and you're starting to slur, so you'll probably miss and end up kissing me properly by accident and I'll just die because Derek cannot see that and it's not even the right season what is wrong with drunk people these days and Derek stop looking over here right n –_

Ryan leans down and kisses the corner of her mouth, quickly and maybe a little rough. Casey stops breathing.

"See?" he says, smirking. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Casey squeaks in response, and then Ryan is on the floor holding his jaw.

"We're going home," Derek says, her coat already over his arm. He takes her elbow and pulls out the front door. Casey stumbles after him in her heels and can't for the life of her figure out how he managed to knock Ryan over, incapacitated or not.

"… thanks," she finally says, when he's unlocking her door.

"It wasn't for you. I've just been wanting to do that for a while." He won't meet her eyes though, and Casey starts to wonder.

* * *

They're nineteen, and Derek is drunk.

"I," he's saying, while Casey hails a taxi. He's leaning on her shoulder with his arm around her waist and his breath against the side of her neck. "Really hate Trashcan."

She doesn't bother correcting him. She also doesn't bother telling him she'd broken up with Truman three days earlier because honestly, she still didn't trust him and there were better things out there for her than a long distance relationship with a guy who didn't even really know her. It wasn't really any of his business, anyways. "Oh, really now?"

"Too much like me," Derek's muttering into her shoulder. "'Cept I never would've kissed Icky."

"Vicky," Casey says with a snort. "I mean, Victoria. And you did kiss her, remember?"

"Only 'cause she looks like you," his nose brushes her jaw, "but she isn't as hot."

Casey tightens her grip on his leather jacket and considers showing a little more leg because _she really needs a cab like right now thanks. _"You're absolutely smashed, aren't you?"

"Not really," he mumbles, and stumbles over the curb. "Okay, yeaaaah. But, s'not that point."

She swallows hard. "And what is the point, Derek?"

His cheek is against her collarbone, now, and maybe the fact that she isn't pushing him away says something about just how much she's done playing games with him. A cab pulls up in front of them, finally, and Derek hits his head on the side as he's climbing in. She sighs. He turns to her, all boyish charm and lopsided smirks, and sticks out his hand. She takes it.

"The point is," he slurs, leaning against her again, "I'm kind done waiting for you, Space."

There should be a 'Case' tacked on at the end of that sentence, but she's trying too hard to remember how to breathe to think of anything else. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he goes, eyes drifting shut. Casey stares out the window and calls his roommate's cell phone when they get to the dorms so he can unlock the door.

In the morning, she goes over to see how he's doing. He answers the door with a growl and bags under his eyes. When she offers him a bottle of aspirin and some of her water, he reluctantly lets her in.

"Good morning," she chirps, and he grunts in response, swallowing two pills and downing half her water. "So, I was thinking about what you said last night."

He chokes, and okay, yeah, maybe she'd done that on purpose, but whatever. He puts her water bottle down and eyes her. "What… did I say?"

"Oh, not much," she goes, and he relaxes a little. She stands up. "Just that I'm hotter than Vicky and you're done waiting for me."

She smiles cheekily at him when he pales, and takes a step towards him. He backs up. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you diiiid," she goes, sing-song, and moves towards him until her nose is almost touching the base of his throat. "And after a long night of extensive freaking out, I have come to a perfectly reasonable conclusion."

He raises his eyebrows at her and she already knows he's probably thinking something like _is she serious? Oh wait, this is Spacey of course she's serious _because, yeah, she admits it, she knows him better than anyone else, inside and out. But that doesn't matter.

Because he knows her inside and out, too.

"Well," he says. "What's your _perfectly reasonable conclusion?"_

"I'm done waiting, too," she goes. "So it's okay if you think I'm hot because I think you're hot, too."

And then she kisses him, hard and fast, just like she'd maybe always imagined it to be, with her hands in his hair and her hips against his. Derek doesn't take much time to respond – he leans against the door and puts his arms around her waist and she's finally getting the happily ever after but not quite he'd always been trying to give her.

"You," he's mumbling against her lips, "are really freaking slow."

"Well, sorry," she breathes back, "my psychic abilities only work on people with brains, you know."

He smirks and nips at her jaw with his fingers up the back of her shirt. She pushes her thigh between his legs, and when he says _Casey_ into her hair all breathy and affectionate like he's been waiting for this his whole life, she can honestly say she thinks she might love him.

"You're going to have to dump that thing you call a boyfriend now, you know that, right?"

She looks up at him and beams. "Already did!"

He stares. "When?"

"Three days ago."

"… So we could've been making out three days ago?" He's glaring at her, now. "You _denied _me three days worth of make out time?"

"Oh, get over yourself," she says, and punches his arm. "The only reason any of this happened was because you got wasted and spilled your heart and soul to me."

"Hate to burst your bubble," he grins at her and she starts to tingle all over, "but last night? I only had like, three beers."

She gapes. "You!"

He beams. "Me!" And kisses her again.

In retrospect, it doesn't really matter if he'd been drunk or not; it's not like she's complaining.


End file.
